


Silence, My Boy

by imoldgreg



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: (No Sea Monsters Tho), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ambiguous Sixties Time Period, Based off The Shape Of Water (2017), Cheating, Choking, Credence is 18, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Submissive Credence Barebone, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Office Sex, One Brief Reference To Internalised Homophobia, Percival Graves Is Not A Nice Guy, Porn Without Plot, Power/Control, Rough Sex, Very Shy Credence Barebone, dominant percival graves, shoe licking, verbal feminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoldgreg/pseuds/imoldgreg
Summary: Percival Graves, head of security at the government facility MACUSA, has taken an almost unhealthy interest in a member of the cleaning staff. It turns out his feelings are reciprocated - mostly.





	Silence, My Boy

**Author's Note:**

> So basically before you read:  
> •Credence’s backstory is traumatic (naturally) leading to extreme shyness   
> •He uses sign language to communicate with anyone other than Newt
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The harsh tin racket of the alarm clock roused Credence from a heated dream with a start. His soft pyjamas stuck to his skin and his face burned. Between his legs his cock throbbed, a lazily hard erection pushing against his trousers, dampening them slightly.

He breathed out heavily as he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He could hear the distant sound of his roommate's accented voice resonating off the thin walls, giving himself a 'talking to'. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

Credence lived in a rather large apartment with small cluttered rooms with his best friend Newt. They had three cats, two fairly big and one fairly small, and any available space lay covered with Newt's various paintings and sketches. He worked as an artist for an advertising company, but he was very self conscious about his own work.

Before he could go see what was causing Newt's loud self criticism, he started the toaster to make the two of them breakfast, and set the timer in the bathroom as he ran hot water into the tub. For the last two years after moving in with Newt he’d found himself a comfortable and time constricted routine to settle into. It might’ve been endlessly repetitive, but it gave him a set structure to follow – he couldn’t go wrong.

The heat of the water as Credence stepped into the bath enveloped him, chasing away the coldness of the drafty apartment. Washing was quick, as always, and Credence spent the next few minutes with a tight soaped up hand round his cock, pumping quickly.

He pushed his head back against the edge of the bath, soft huffs of breath escaping him as he worked his lower lip between his teeth. His hand slid easily up and down his length, twisting at the head in a way that Credence had discovered made his whole body jolt. His breathing was loud in the tiled room.

He made a small, barely audible yelp when he came, his mouth open in a gasp and his eyes squeezed shut, toes curling as hot spend dribbled down his fingers into the water. Credence tried to convince himself he wasn’t imaging a large hand round his neck when he came.

When he’d recovered he realised the timer had long since gone off, and he quickly made his way back into his room where the toaster was, removing the almost black slices from the machine and onto two plates where he buttered them generously, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice. He then took one in each hand and pushed open the door to Newt's room, dressed only in a bath robe.

“Morning Credence, you sleep well?” the red head smiled at Credence in a tired manner, confirming Credence’s suspicions that he’d been up all night again agonizing over his work.

Credence nodded in return, passing Newt his plate. “Yes thank you, I'm guessing you didn’t?”

“Unfortunately not. I need this painting perfect for later today. You think the people in it look happy enough?” Newt took the plate gratefully, oblivious to the black coating over each slice, as he gestured towards a picture of a traditional family, gathered round some new and exciting tinned product that had just hit the shelves.

“It's really good, Newt, one of your best,” Credence smiled at his friend, starting to eat his toast as he perched on the arm of a sofa. He’d grown more accustomed to easy conversation with Newt since living with him, and now as long as the other man initiated it Credence could chat with him as smoothly as anything.

They ate in comfortable silence as Newt continued to tweak and worry over his art, until Credence noticed the time, wishing his friend luck and returning to his room, dressing quickly and shining his shoes before heading out the door, his lunch in a brown paper bag.

It was still dark when he stepped out onto the streets, the surrounding neon lights reflecting off the puddles left by the rain. 

There weren’t too many people at the bus stop, and those that were kept to themselves, so Credence had no need to duck his head or shuffle his feet. He found a seat by the window easily, the glass still speckled with water droplets, and found himself almost drifting off as he watched everything streak by in a haze.

Credence worked at a government facility just on the outskirts of the city, so the bus ride was a long and winding route. When Newt had first found him the job at MACUSA Credence thought he’d gone mad, having no background education to speak of and thanks to his mother had a complete inability to talk to anyone other than Newt. But then his friend had explained it was a simple cleaning job, very low pay but a “job’s a job”, and Credence had thanked him profusely.

When the bus parked up outside the facility he had to run to make sure he wasn’t late, and Tina stood at the front of the sign in line with a raised eyebrow as he hurried over. She punched herself in swiftly and handed Credence his own blue card to do the same, rolling her eyes at him.

“You need to set a better alarm or something Credence, you can’t expect me to hold your place in the line every time,” she scolded him teasingly as they walked to the locker rooms, Credence signing a quick apology as his face grew a little flushed. Maybe he did spend a little long in the bath today.

The two of them parted as they went into their separate locker rooms to change into the awful uniform the cleaning staff were forced to wear; all white with short shirt sleeves, and a blue almost medical looking apron. Tina received the better deal, in Credence’s opinion; a light blue dress, accompanied by the same waxy apron.

The other men in the locker rooms didn’t give Credence a second glance, and left him to himself, which he was more than grateful for. He left and met with Tina to collect their trolleys, full of cleaning products and utensils. Tina chatted mindlessly about anything, easily filling the silence. Credence was lucky she was such good friends with Newt or his crippling shyness would’ve prevented him from ever having any workplace companions.

After a few rounds of sweeping and mopping several corridoes, the two of them moved onto the men's bathroom, a particularly disgusting room to have to clean. Credence couldn’t remember the last time he’d relieved himself at work.

“Now would you just look at this mess,” Tina scolded an invisible audience of men as she scrubbed at a urinal, the distaste clear on her face. “We’ve got some of the best minds in the country in this facility, and they can’t even pee straight.”

Credence smirked to himself at Tina's ranting as he wiped down the mirrors, trying not to laugh as her comments became more outrageous.

“It’s on the goddamn ceiling! How big of a target do they need?” she exclaimed, hands on her hips and shaking her head.

It was a few minutes after, when they’d finished cleaning and Credence was just setting out neatly folded towels by each sink, when a man came in. Credence froze and ducked his head, and even Tina stopped talking.

He was huge, his presence dominating the surrounding area, dressed in a sleek black suit with shining leather shoes to match. Credence recognised him from around the facility, and though he’d never had any personal encounters with him so far, he wasn’t a man Credence was likely to forget.

Percival Graves, head of security, surveyed them carelessly. His hand came into Credence’s view, still handing out towels, and he placed a long slim baton over the sink. It clanked against the stone heavily, clearly made of metal. Credence wondered if it was heavy to carry.

“Don’t mind me ladies,” the man smirked as he spoke, walking over to a urinal and taking out his cock. Credence blinked quickly and looked away, starting to clean the taps with shaking hands. It was huge.

“Don't let me disturb your chatting.”

His voice was rough, and Credence couldn’t take his eyes off the sleek black bat the man had rested over the sink. He hadn’t realised he was staring until Tina swatted his arm, and he felt a huge strong body pressed up against his back, dwarfing him completely. His whole body trembled and he froze, his hand fused to the tap he’d been cleaning.

Mr Graves’ large hands appeared either side of him on the stone of the sink, one of them reaching for the baton, which he held easily against Credence’s cheek. It was cold and smooth. Beside him he heard Tina emit a tiny strangled noise.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she? All steel, and this bit at the top here,” he pressed it against the underside of Credence’s jaw, “gives up to 50,000 volts on my say so. The paint means blood just runs right off,” Credence felt the man’s breath at his ear, and when he dared to glance up to the mirror Mr Graves’ fathomless dark eyes burned into his.

He couldn’t stop the tiny whimper that sounded in his throat, or the way his breathing sped up as his body shook , and he saw one of the man's thick eyebrows arch, a smirk forming on his features. When he swallowed he could feel the firm press of the metal digging into his skin.

Mr Graves at last withdrew the bat from Credence’s neck, and pulled away from his back to wash his hands. He dried them on one of the towels that Credence had just laid out, leaving it crumpled in his wake.

“Now I’ll leave you two in peace, you can get back to your,” the older man paused in the doorway, looking over both Tina and Credence with a scrutinizing smirk, “girl talk.”

Tina had been furious. The second Mr Graves had left she’d checked Credence thoroughly to make sure he was ok, and when he’d signed 'I'm fine I swear' she’d started on an onslaught of “if he comes near you again” and “did you see how he just swaggered in like he owned the place?”

Credence wasn’t sure how he really was feeling. He was shaky, but not hurt. He left it at that, and listened to Tina’s ranting as they hurriedly gathered their things and moved out the bathroom.

It wasn’t until lunch when they heard from Mr Graves again. Credence had actually managed to forget about what had occurred in the toilets after a hard few hours of loading trolley after trolley of laundry into the vans which took them to the dry cleaners.

His arms ached and his back twinged painfully every time he tried to straighten it.

He signed to Tina how much he was looking forward to eating lunch, and she agreed, collecting her hot meal from the cafeteria as Credence took out his own paper bag meal from his locker. They’d only just sat down when Mr Graves’ secretary and Tina’s sister, a flustered but pretty looking woman by the name of Queenie, hurried over to their table.

“Mr Graves has asked for you in his office, and it doesn’t look good, he’s been in a bad mood since a mix-up of his files this morning,” Queenie grimaced as she spoke, her eyes flitting up to the ceiling in exasperation.

Tina sighed, muttering something about not even being able to finish their lunches, before following her sister. 

Credence trailed after them, a frown pulling his brows together. The way Mr Graves had acted in the bathroom earlier had been entirely inappropriate, if he thought that Credence was going to sit there and take unprovoked abuse after that he must’ve been mad.

This newfound defiance which had emboldened Credence to stride down the corridor with his head held high for once and his hands clenched into fists quickly disintegrated as he stepped foot into the office. It was bleak and mostly empty, and that which was there stood immaculate and well built.

Mr Graves sat at his sleek wooden desk, not bothering to look up as they entered, continuing to look over a few sheets of paper.

“Sit.”

Credence sat. His shoulders stood practically at his ears and he had to sandwich his hands between his knees to stop them from shaking. His eyes were instantly drawn to the same shining black baton as before, now seated on the edge of Mr Graves’ desk, a few inches away from his hand.

Tina caught his gaze and frowned further, hesitating before sitting beside Credence. Like him she was clearly worried if the man was actually going to use such a weapon against them. 

Mr Graves looked up at them after what seemed like an eternity, an eyebrow unconsciously raised as the same criticizing gaze roamed over them, making Credence shrink further into himself.

“There’s been some..” he paused, smirking slightly as if remembering a joke they were not privy to, “.. complaints regarding you two, about your work ethic. It seems there’s too much of that 'girl talk' I caught you in the middle of earlier, and not enough cleaning. And well, if you’re not doing your job it’s my responsibility to find out why.”

“That’s ridiculous! We’re two of the hardest workers here!” Tina burst out, the outrage clear on her face.

Mr Graves merely raised a questioning eyebrow, his chin resting on his fingers and his elbow on the desk, looking at her as if she were an inconvenience rather than a person. The baton next to him reflected the light menacingly, but Tina remained unperturbed.

“Credence can’t even speak, how could he be distracted with talking if he can’t even join in?” Credence flushed deeply when Tina announced this, his stomach twisting as Mr Graves's stony gaze transferred to him. Something akin to interest flickered in his dark eyes, unnerving the boy greatly.

“Is that true?”

Credence paused before nodding, his knee bouncing anxiously.

Mr Graves frowned at Tina, unconvinced.

“What’s wrong with him then? Why can’t he talk?”

Credence felt like he was back at the church.

Tina glanced at him apologetically before saying, softer than before, “Something bad happened to him as a kid, trauma from a bad home.”

There was a moment of silence, and Credence was sure the intense hammering of his heart in his ears could be heard by everyone in the room. He felt a little sick.

“Ah,” Mr Graves finally nodded, and for a split second Credence actually thought the man understood. “So you mean he won’t talk, rather than can’t. There’s nothing physically stopping him, he’s just a pussy about it.”

Credence flinched at the harsh language, frowning. He met the man's gaze for the first time, shocked by the intensity of it. Quickly he signed 'If that’s everything please can we leave.’ It wasn’t at all a defiant or brave thing to say, merely asking to be excused, but he couldn’t shake the sickening feeling of fear gripping his stomach, or the hot flush that covered his face at the derogatory term.

“What’s he saying?” Mr Graves watched Credence closely, glancing over carelessly at Tina.

“He's asking for us to leave,” Tina clenched her jaw and shot daggers at the man through her gaze. When Credence nudged her she sighed heavily. “Please.”

“You can Ms Goldstein, I want Credence to stay a moment longer.”

“But I-“

“Get out.”

Dejectedly, furiously, Tina left the room, glancing back at Credence in a look reassuring him that she wouldn’t be far and would wait for him. Mr Graves smirked when she closed the door, his lazy, predatory gaze fixing Credence to the spot. His thick fingers played with a pen on his desk before discarding it carelessly.

“Can you really not speak? Or do you squeal a little hm?” the older man's face was unreadable as his dark eyebrows met in a from of mock interest, leaning forward in his chair, studying Credence with his inscrutable eyes.

Credence blinked rapidly and ducked his head in embarrassment, his blush deepening as his hand came up to rub the back of his neck self consciously. His mind was a mess of empty space and disorganization all at once, rendering it useless. He knew he should be scared, and he was, incredibly so, but under that fear lay something primal rousing from his subconscious. Trying to ignore it Credence shook his head minutely.

“I bet I can make you squeal a little,” the man's voice was husky, and when Credence dared to meet his gaze it was dark, a wide smirk on his lips.

Credence’s shocked expression remained on his face as he tried to bring his breathing back under control. A shudder flickered over his skin and he trembled. He felt like a rabbit facing the jaws of a wolf.

Mr Graves sighed, flicking a finger suddenly against the water glass that stood on the edge of his desk. The high note resonated in Credence’s ears, making them ring, breaking him out of the trembling stupor he’d slipped under.

“You know these complaints cannot go ignored Credence,” the older man leaned back in his chair, one hand remaining loosely grazing the glass. Credence's eyes widened as he registered what the man was about to do.

The glass shattered against the stone floor with a blood curdling sound that caused Credence to almost jump out of his chair, his knuckles white as he gripped his knees. Mr Graves remained unmoving, watching Credence intensely. Water covered the floor around the desk.

“Clean it up.”

Credence gaped at him, both outraged and taken aback at the man's insolent behavior. The returned quirk of an eyebrow on an otherwise expressionless face made him set his jaw as he pulled a cloth from his pocket, kneeling on the floor to clean up the water and shards of glass. He could feel the man's eyes searing into his skin the whole time.

A job that only took him a few minutes seemed to stretch out for hours, the silence between them thick and stifling. Credence felt himself begin to warm under the collar, his shirt starting to stick to his back. He didn’t dare look up until he’d finished, and when he did he was faced with the man's immaculate leather shoes inches away from his nose.

Credence’s eyes flickered anxiously up to where Mr Graves sat, his chin against his fingers as he watched the boy work. His face seemed uninterested, but behind his eyes a fire danced and flickered eagerly, excited and aroused.

His voice was deeper than before, and he moistened his lips before he spoke. Credence’s eyes caught on the movement.

“Shine them.”

Credence looked around him for a brush but found none, and when he gingerly reached up with the wet cloth he found his hand pushed away by the man's foot, pinning it lightly to his chest. He looked up at him timidly, searching for instruction. Surely he didn’t want Credence to –

“Use your mouth,” came the command from above, Mr Graves crossing his legs so one shoe was level with Credence’s face, the other on the ground.

He should’ve got out of there as fast as he could, but that soulless black stare kept him in place, soft and pliant and on the edge of arousal. Kneeling before such a powerful, intimidating man, having such degrading orders given to him with no way out, Credence was hardly in a state to argue, his half hard cock pulsing lazily against his thigh. He wondered if Mr Graves noticed.

\---

When Percival arrived home his shoes still shined perfectly, streaked slightly from Credence’s fat wet tongue lapping over the smooth leather. They had been shining wet when the boy had finished with them. He might’ve been a freak who couldn’t– wouldn’t talk , but he certainly was a pretty little thing.

His small house in the suburbs had a neat white fence outlining the too-neat garden he never bothered to tend. The house was yellow inside, a colour he hated but his wife loved. She brought him a coffee with a beaming smile as soon as he entered the kitchen, beginning to tell him all about her day, which was incredibly dull – all she did was stay at home and clean.

The kids, a boy and a girl each around a similar age of eight, came downstairs to greet him, but then had to hurry off out the front door to go to a club. Some kind of sport they both played, Percival couldn’t remember. He barely spoke to them nowadays, and if he did it was to scold and discipline. Over the years his compulsion for control had grown rapidly and he exercised his power at any chance he could.

“You've been in an awful bad mood lately Percy,” his wife simpered at him sweetly, her hands finding his shoulders and rubbing gently. Percival frowned further at the pet name, drinking his coffee as he leant back against the counter.

The woman in front of him bit her lip a little desperately, sliding her hands to his forearm which she squeezed lightly, searching in his face for .. something.

“Why don’t you finish your coffee and come upstairs yeah? The kids won’t be back for a few hours.”

He raised an eyebrow and made a rough grunt in agreement, to which she smiled eagerly and breathed out in relief, squeezing his arm again before disappearing upstairs. Percival sighed after he finished his coffee, taking off his suit jacket and waistcoat as he made his way upstairs.

His wife was busy shutting the sheer net curtains, the golden afternoon sun filling the room with more of that hateful colour. Percival took his time folding his clothes up over the chair and started to remove his holster, placing it on the chest of drawers by the door. He sat down on the bed as his wife came over, smiling excitedly, her hair curled unnaturally, her dress's vivid floral pattern unfamiliar to him. She’d made an effort. He didn’t comment on it.

“I’ve missed you baby, you’re always so busy with work,” she pouted at him cutely, running her hands through his hair to free it from its slicked back position, but he took hold of her small wrists and pushed his hair back. He wasn’t in the mood to be romantic. He hadn’t been for a long time.

He’d married a girl far too young for his age, almost forty by the time he settled down with someone barely legal. She was silly and pretty and easily lead, and had been fun for a time, but now he’d grown bored with the repetitiveness of it all.

When Percival fucked he fucked hard, but today was especially rough. The bed slammed against the wall and the mattress squeaked angrily, assuring a visit from an outraged neighbour later that night. His wife lay on her back, splayed out, skirt bunched up to her hips, buttons pulled open on the top half of her blouse to let her breasts free. He hadn’t bothered to get undressed, merely pulled his trousers down enough to get his cock out.

He knew his wife had expected them both to be naked, to have a passionate thorough fuck like they had during the first few years of their marriage, but she didn’t voice her disappointment. In fact she was loud, her legs curling up around his hips, her toes scrunched up and her head flung back. He’d pinned her hands above her head in one powerful grasp. Percival knew he’d pulled her hair too hard, but he’d wanted to ruin that stupid perm she had gotten done.

“Oh fuck Percy!” she cried, almost screamed, over and over as his thrusts grew to a punishing pace, the wet slap of her cunt echoing off the walls of their bedroom.

“Shut up,” he growled, taking her by surprise as her gasp was interrupted by a drawn out squeal. He covered her mouth with his free hand. “I want you silent.”

It wasn’t like him to want her quiet while they fucked, one of the reasons Percival had married the girl was due to the fact she was incredibly noisy in bed, something he’d always found arousing, but now his mind was fixed on Credence Barebone. He wondered how hard he’d have to fuck the boy before he finally squealed.

When he came he growled the boy's name, his hand closed tightly around his wife’s neck as his hips stuttered. She didn’t comment on it.

\---

Credence hadn’t told Newt what had happened in Mr Graves’ office yesterday. He hadn’t told Tina either. He hadn’t even secretly whispered it to one of the cats like he sometimes did when he felt unable to tell Newt something.

He’d received the note from the man to meet him once again in his office, this time before work, and that he mustn’t tell a soul. His heart jumped into his throat and his stomach twisted, but he was eager to see Mr Graves again. Something about the submissive role he had to take on sent heat down his spine, and seemed to fit perfectly with what he’d been fantasizing about in the bath.

Credence made up an excuse to Newt saying he had to be early today as his bus had been rescheduled. He was lucky Newt was too focused on repainting the highlights on his picture to question the many flaws in his lie.

Arriving at work that early was difficult; everything was even darker than it usually was when he set off and he found himself exhausted due to the lack of sleep, but he managed to get there a good two hours before the work day officially started.

There were a few scattered employees wandering the corridors or sitting in their offices, none of which regarded Credence longer than a passing glance. As he continued his walk towards Mr Graves’ large office his heart threatened to burst from his chest, his stomach flipping summersaults as he felt himself begin to sweat. His hands were trembling as he reached to knock at the door. Maybe he shouldn’t have obeyed the note. Maybe the man was going to fire him for being a faggot. There was after all no guarantee he felt the same feeling as Credence regarding yesterday, Mr Graves’ gaze upon him had not once been kind.

Credence began to grow cold, wiping his hands on his trousers as they grew clammier. He hadn’t considered any of that.

“Come in,” came the deep voice from within, and Credence took a shuddering breath before entering.

Mr Graves looked up at him when he came in and nodded in greeting. 

Credence swallowed, his throat clicking audibly, nodding shyly back at the older man. He moved to sit but Mr Graves clicked his tongue. He froze out of instinct, his gaze cast down anxiously as he chewed on his lower lip. Maybe Credence really had misread the situation after all.

“Bend over the desk,” dispelling Credence’s fears of rejection and replacing them with a whole new set of urges, Mr Graves gestured lazily to the side of his desk, going back to writing in some files. Credence wondered just how early Mr Graves arrived to work every day if he was already busy at this hour.

He leant over the polished wood, leaning on his elbows, trying to ignore the exposed vulnerable feeling creeping up his neck, and the deep blush spreading over his face.

He caught the older man from the corner of his eye push his chair back and stand up, walking round behind him to where Credence could no longer see him. He then felt the heavy push of a large hand between his shoulder blades, and Credence yielded to it easily, allowing his chest to be pressed flat to the shining wood of the desk.

Mr Graves wasn’t gentle. He tugged down Credence’s trousers and underwear, thankfully he hadn’t yet changed into his hideous cleaning uniform and still had on his own clothes, and landed a harsh smack on his rear.

Credence had squeaked minutely, his flanks shuddering like a horse’s. He shuffled his feet anxiously as he heard the man mutter such inappropriate things Credence grew hard just hearing him.

The older man hadn’t messed around or wasted any time; he positioned Credence with expert warm hands, large and tanned against his pale figure, pinning his wrists behind his back before fixing them together with his fine leather belt. He then leant over the boy, and Credence sucked in a breath as he braced himself for intrusion, but Mr Graves was only rummaging in his desk drawer for something. He withdrew a small clear pot of some kind of lubricant, and Credence heard the embarrassingly slick sound of the man rubbing copious amounts of it over his cock.

From what Credence had seen in the bathroom he had no idea how that was supposed to fit inside him.

The first push was painful, and Credence gasped out almost silently. It pushed inside him until it was fully sheathed, and pumped too fast too soon inside him. Credence jolted forward, his thighs trapped against the solid wood of the desk, unable to prevent the pained whimpers that escaped from his lips, now red and swollen from all his anxious biting.

He felt as though his hole was stretched taught, the thing inside him huge, and his legs trembled.

“Easy little one, this is only one finger. Relax,” the first kind words Credence heard from Mr Graves brought tears to his eyes, and made his stomach drop as he realised there was something much bigger to come after the man's initial probing.

The finger continued to thrust uncomfortably in and out of him, and Credence managed to reign in his whimpers as the burn disappeared. He even started to wonder if this was it, almost feeling a little disappointed, until Mr Graves crooked the finger inside of him and it sent him reeling.

Mr Graves’ free hand found the back of his neck and pinned him heavily against the smooth wood, it starting to fog up under Credence’s body heat. His thumb dug into the soft spot just below his jaw bone, anchoring him down.

A second finger slid in beside the first and aimed a punishing pace at the incredible spot inside him, sending electricity and fire along every nerve at each thrust. Credence whined and moaned in short restricted gasps, unable to stop himself pushing back needily against the man's hand.

When the fingers were removed Credence bit back a desperate plea for it to continue, pushing his ass up and arching his back as much as he could against the desk. He tugged at his arms slightly, the leather digging into his skin just tight enough to offer a warning not to fight his restraints.

“Ready to take my cock baby?” the older man's voice was thick with arousal, and he gave Credence no time to respond, a hot blunt head pressing against Credence’s hole almost immediately before sliding in slowly.

The slick eased the burn but Credence felt every inch. Mr Graves didn’t leave enough time for the boy to adjust, but kept his thrusts slow and deep until Credence was holding back moans with shaking legs, pushing back when he pushed in.

“Fucking hell you’re tight,” the man snarled, his jaw tight, pinning Credence’s neck in place tightly with his other hand gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. He wasn’t sure how long he’d last with such an eager hole ready to milk his cock.

Mr Graves fucked into Credence with abandon. The slick sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of such a tight little hole and the slap of skin on skin filled the room accompanied by his grunts and heavy breathing.

He could tell Credence was trying so hard to stay quiet, little breathy moans and whimpers escaping him as each vicious thrust pushed the air from his lungs, filling him up completely. His small body bounced against the older man’s hips, tears making his cheeks glisten.

Mr Graves pulled out almost to the tip, repositioned his hips and gripped the back of Credence’s hair. He pulled the boy up until he was arching back against the man's chest, breathing heavily, his prick rock hard and curving up against his belly. The older man wrapped his arms around Credence’s chest to lock his body in place against his, his hand squeezing round his throat tight.

When the older man began his punishing thrusts again Credence lost it, that spot inside him stimulated almost unbearably by the new position. He’d never been so loud, pinned against Graves’ body and the edge of the desk, his skin alight with an almost painfully intense pleasure.

“Daddy!” he wailed unconsciously, his legs shaking so bad if he wasn’t pinned in place he would’ve fallen.

“What was that princess?” Mr Graves’ own voice was strained and growling, the hand tightening around his throat as he drilled into him.

The pet name pushed Credence further over the edge, surrendering himself to every feeling, his thoughts on nothing but the strong powerful man behind him, fucking him so hard and so deep.

He must’ve repeated himself on command, as Mr Graves snarled, “Good girl,” in his ear, and wrapped a huge hand around his weeping cock tightly, barely needing to stroke more than once before Credence was cumming all over the desk and the man's hand.

Mr Graves thrusted erratically up inside him a few more times before releasing as well, exploding hot and thick inside him.

He eased Credence back onto the desk, undoing the belt which restrained his hands as he tucked himself away, running his hand over Credence’s sweaty back under his shirt. Credence wheezed a little as he tried to catch his breath, unable to move, his throat aching.

One of Mr Graves’ hands found way to Credence’s hair as he sat back down at his desk. A thumb brushed over his cheek.

“What do you say to daddy baby?”

Credence paused for a second, his eyes meeting the older man’s. The feeling of safety laid heavily over him like a blanket as Mr Graves took hold of his still trembling hand in his own large one, thumb stroking lightly over his knuckles.

“Thank you daddy.”


End file.
